Chapter Text
The man in the video was annoyingly chipper in the face of what seemed to Louis to be imminent disaster.
“This is what happens when you leave the heat on too high and take a call from your sister,” he said as the camera focused on a pot of gooey red jam that looked like something Louis would make himself (which wasn’t a good thing). “Thankfully it’s an easy fix. The man snapped his fingers and, through a trick of editing, the jam became a little looser. “After tasting it, I found that it wasn’t burnt at all, so I added a little more freshly squeezed orange juice and about a teaspoon of sugar, and it’s good as new!”
Louis scoffed. “Right, of course he’d say that, not like anyone else is tasting anything! Probably tastes like complete shit.” Liam pulled the phone away, the chipper baking guy’s voice much harder to hear. “Hey!”
“I’ve already told you, if you’re going to be a dick about the videos we can’t watch them together,” Liam said with a frown.
“I’m just being real, unlike your little internet baker boy.”
Liam rolled his eyes before looking down at his phone and pausing the video. He turned back to fix Louis with a stern glare. “You’re the one who wanted to watch the video with me, Louis. I’m fine with watching them on my own, you know.”
“Fine, fine,” Louis sighed. “Maybe he fixed the jam and it tasted delicious. Now let me see what the damn cookies look like at the end.”
“However it was, you know it had to taste better than anything you’ve ever made.” Liam brought the phone back up from his side, hitting play.
“Remind me why I don’t fire you?” Louis asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Liam paused the video again.
“Because I foolishly agreed to open this coffee shop with you, and in order to fire me you’d have to buy me out.” He didn’t give Louis the chance to respond, just pressed play and turned his attention back to ‘I Like Your Styles,’ the baking account that Louis couldn’t stop himself from hate watching.
The man rolled out his cookie dough, cutting it with a mitten shaped cookie cutter and then pressing his fingertips along the top so that there were five little divots. He filled each one with a dab of his cranberry orange jam, then used a knife to cut between each bit of jam to create fingers, supposedly. It looked sort of weird in Louis’ opinion.
But then they came out of the oven looking messy and, yes, sort of cute in their own way, and Louis wrinkled his nose, annoyed at how charming the little cookies were.
“And that’s my cranberry jammy fingerprint cookies. A little more complicated than your typical thumbprint cookie, but of course if you’d rather not deal with all the shaping, the recipe is the same. Thanks for joining me in my little baking advent-ure, see you tomorrow! And hey, I really like your styles.”
Louis hated that he knew he’d be tuning in tomorrow.